


all your saints and saviors

by anonymousAlchemist



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, archiving from tumblr, shes trying her best, sometimes youre a little fucked up after saving the world and thats okay, tw: depression, tw: suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 22:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12640605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousAlchemist/pseuds/anonymousAlchemist
Summary: It’s not so much that she wants to die per se, as much as it is that she’s done living. The female human life expectancy is seventy-two years on this plane (it was seventy-four years on her home plane) and she’s lost count of her birthdays. But the math is easy. She was twenty when she boarded the Starblaster. A hundred-twenty when they landed in Faerun. A hundred-thirty when the Hunger was defeated. She’s fifty six years overdue.She’s done her job, is the thing. She saved the world, in exchange for youth, friendship, family. She gave up everything but determination. She considers it fair trade. But now Lucretia is a single-use tool whose purpose no longer exists.





	all your saints and saviors

**Author's Note:**

> in case you didnt read the tags! tw: suicidal ideation, depression, general fucked up thought processes. lucretias trying and sometimes thats all you can do.

It’s not so much that she wants to die per se, as much as it is that she’s done living. The female human life expectancy is seventy-two years on this plane (it was 74 years on her home plane) and she’s lost count of her birthdays. But the math is easy. She was twenty when she boarded the Starblaster. A hundred-twenty when they landed in Faerun. A hundred-thirty when the Hunger was defeated. She’s fifty six years overdue.

She’s done her job, is the thing. She saved the world, in exchange for youth, friendship, family. She gave up everything but determination. She considers it fair trade. But now Lucretia is a single-use tool whose purpose no longer exists.

#

It’s a better story, when she’s gone. She’s thinking of her life in terms of its narrative weight, because Lucretia is a writer and writers think in terms of plot, characterization, emotional themes. Take the youngest member of a ship of heroes. Have her betray the rest in service of a greater good. She lives. They forget. She builds an organization dedicated to solving their problems, here is the mysterious director with her regal posture, her enigmatic dialogue. Turncoat, blackguard, she’s been lucky enough to receive the chance to fix her mistakes.

She saves the world. Everyone lives.

But that’s not the right story. Death equals redemption, in the classical sense. There is no place for traitors in the shining futures that are to come. The point of the story is that everyone who lives deserves to live. This is an epic. It is a fairytale. It is a legend. There is no room for her in the epilogue.

She would be less complicated, Lucretia thinks, as a memory.

#

And yet.

#

The world fails to end.

Lucretia collapses into her bed in her rooms on the moonbase and feels something in her chest wind down. Tick, tick, tick.

Clockwork girl, she thinks. Going through the motions. She saved the world, she thinks. The high from that should have lasted longer. She closes her eyes.

Here are her sheets which smell like lavender and her shampoo. Her bedroom for the past few years, laid out like her bedroom on the Starblaster. Her books. Her sole second drawn picture of her family. Her journals. Her arms crossed across her chest. Her head smashed against the pillow. That’s everything.

She wishes she was somebody else. Someone easier to be.

#

Sometimes when she looks in the mirror she still expects to see the fresh-faced twenty-something that she was for so long, even after she’d lived for more than a lifetime. She’s never looked her age. Lucretia doesn’t like mirrors much, anymore.

Well, that’s one thing her and Taako still have in common these days, she thinks wryly. He’s not talking to her. She doesn’t know whether she wishes he was. Taako was always a little too good at cutting through her bullshit, and these days, she has a terror of being seen. So maybe it’s a good thing, that nobody is looking.

#

She’s fine. She’s breathing on manual, but she’s still breathing, and the sun rises and the world turns and she stares down at Faerun below her and she wonders when she became someone who didn’t know how to interact, anymore.

The world doesn’t need her, is the thing. Oh sure, the Bureau of Benevolence needs a director, but it doesn’t have to be her. She has no place with her family after what she’s done, either. Never mind that Magnus calls her every week, that Merle tells her all about his kids, that Lup portals onto the moonbase and drags her on sightseeing trips in Neverwinter, visiting old bookstores and cooking supply shops, weird magic trinket secondhand sellers.

“You’re just taking me with you on your errands,” Lucretia says.

“Well Luce,” Lup says, “otherwise you wouldn’t ever leave your bedroom.”

Lup doesn’t ask her if she’s okay. Lucretia appreciates it. Lup can’t stand enclosed spaces, these days, and Lucretia doesn’t ask about that, either.

#

“I just,” she says. “I’m done. I cocked the whole thing up and you bailed me out. I never thought about  _after_.”

“I spent a long time being maybe a little too okay with the idea of getting killed,” Magnus says. “You called me out on it, remember?”

“Carey told me to talk to you,” Lucretia admits. “And I was worried. You don’t have any self preservation instincts.”

Magnus hugs her.

“You’re a hypocrite,” he says, gently. “You should be nicer to yourself.”

She closes her eyes. She breathes.

**Author's Note:**

> im @[anonymousalchemist](http://anonymousalchemist.tumblr.com/)  
> let me know what you thought! thanks! love yall bye.


End file.
